


Signs of the Joker

by perseajackson



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: And like, Barbara Gordon - Freeform, Batman - Freeform, Batman Beyond - Freeform, Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker - Freeform, Bruce Wayne - Freeform, Gen, I just kinda tried to transcribe it from terrys pov, Return of the Joker - Freeform, Terry McGinnis - Freeform, Terry finding bruce after joker breaks into the cave, The Joker - Freeform, aftermath of that, it's emo o b v i o u s l y, max gibson - Freeform, so this is basically just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 04:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15766311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perseajackson/pseuds/perseajackson
Summary: Something was wrong with Wayne.The Joker was back, he knew Terry's identity, he knew Bruce Wayne’s identity. And Bruce wasn't picking up.All of Terry's anger at the old man from earlier in the day, all the hurt and feelings of betrayal- all of that took the backseat as a hundred horrible scenarios raced through Terry's head as he sped and sped as fast as he could push his bike, now quickly making his way up to the dark, lonely mansion on the hill.





	1. ha. ha. ha.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!!! so basically I just spent the whole weekend binging batman beyond and then watched batman beyond: return of the joker last night ANd i'm emo about it.
> 
> I'm currently sick and woke up this morning in a haze from my cold medicine and congestion and just got the urge to start writing, so I did, and just kinda threw some stuff down till I fell back asleep lmao
> 
> anyway, this is prooooobably just gonna be the scenes of Terry finding bruce after the joker breaks in and attacks and just after it, so like. y'know. not really an ongoing thing. so pls enjoi (^':
> 
> ALSO: 
> 
> just a disclaimer-- most of the events and dialogue in this are taken directly from the movie. if u have seen the movie then u know where I've added stuff or taken liberties, but 98% of the dialogue and actions are word-for-word from the movie and not from my noggin.

Terry wove through traffic with ease, hardly noticing or registering anything and just allowing his body to go on autopilot.

He'd never driven so fast before in his life. There were plenty of times he'd raced the Batmobile various places, particularly pushing it when Xandar had kidnapped Max. But this was different. 

Something was wrong with Wayne. 

The Joker was back, he knew Terry's identity, he knew Bruce Wayne’s identity. And Bruce wasn't picking up.

All of Terry's anger at the old man from earlier in the day, all the hurt and feelings of betrayal- all of that took the backseat as a hundred horrible scenarios raced through Terry's head as he sped and sped as fast as he could push his bike, now quickly making his way up to the dark, lonely mansion on the hill. 

Terry finally,  _ finally _ , reached the gate- the doors swung idly in the spooky night’s breeze. Terry’s stomach dropped. He revved his bike and sped up the long driveway to the manor, trying to keep his imagination at bay. Wayne wouldn’t open those gates for just anyone, and from the looks of how they’d been left open, Terry didn’t really have to guess if they’d been forcibly opened or not.

He drove up to the front doors, shut off his bike, and hopped off in a fluid motion, running as soon as both of his feet were on the ground. He tossed his helmet down next to his bike and ran up the steps to the doors. They were open, just like the gates.

He’d never wished he had that suit more before in his life.

Terry busted through the doors, his mentor’s name ripping out of his throat, “Wayne!!”

He probably should have been more careful, more sneaky, just in case whoever had broken in was still around. But Terry didn’t even think about that. All he could think about was all the horrible possibilities that could have happened to Bruce Wayne.

“Wayne?” Terry called again as he made his way through the mansion. It was in ruins. The place wasn’t exactly an example of beauty and grace in all the time he’d spent here anyway, but now it was ransacked, torn up. Things that had been carefully covered or lined against the walls or in boxes for years were turned over, broken, torn. Fallen tapestries, ripped up tarps and blankets, shards of glass and broken fragments of plastic and wood were everywhere. Terry could see shadows of dust and where things had moved through it. But nowhere did he see any blood. He took that as the only pro about the situation so far. “ _ Wayne!! _ ”

He eventually slowed down to a fast paced walk instead of a run, and he only stopped after realizing he passed the old den. It had always been empty of everything, save for the bookshelves that lined the back wall and the grandfather clock that sat in the center. Terry was more familiar with it as the main entrance to the Bat Cave from the manor. He doubled back to enter the room, his breath catching in his throat as a familiar shadow lingered near one of the shelves.

Terry ran over, dropping to a knee in front of the clearly injured hound. “Ace?” he said, seeing the dog lift his head with a whine as Terry came over. Terry reached forward, placing his hand on Ace’s neck and rubbing him gently. The dog laid his head back down, but kept breathing. 

He wanted to tend to Ace right away- if he was hurt enough to keep him down and away from Bruce’s side, then it was serious. But the fact that he was out here and hurt enough to be kept from Bruce made Terry terrified of what state the old man was in. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. Ace was an honourable dog, a loyal dog. He was tough as they came. He’d be okay.. He’d hang on until Terry could help him, and he’d want Terry to go find Bruce first. Terry looked up to the grandfather clock, which had been shoved to the side and broken in half against the ransacked bookshelf. The cracks in the wall made it clear that whoever had broken in, had enough power to literally rip the clock off the wall by force.

With renewed adrenaline and increased panic, Terry jumped to his feet and ran through the injured doorway, taking the steps down to the cave two, three at a time, being grateful for their width and decline. After an eternity of racing down the steps, Terry emerged onto the landing that entered the Cave, and he was paralyzed as soon as his feet landed on it. He physically recoiled with a gasp, ice flooding his veins as he looked out at the floor of the Cave.

Written in grotesque red spray paint and moving down the stone floors in the direction of the main room of the Cave, were the crudely scrawled, “HA! HA!! HA!!!”s that haunted Terry ever since he plowed through the police guarding his dad’s apartment and found the same horrible letters tainting his dad’s apartment- the walls, the floors-

And now they were  _ here _ . They were in the Bat Cave. Which meant-

Terry jumped off the landing, noticing but not paying mind to the destroyed display cases the suits were kept in. He hopped over the downed Nightwing mannequin, ran past other toppled memorabilia and trophies, and ignored the glass crunching under his boots as he tore his way to the computer terminal. He could have thrown up at the sight, and, in hindsight, had no idea how he didn’t freeze up or pass out at the graffiti laughter all over the computers and monitors. He supposed it was because he saw the empty chair first, and a half second later…

Bruce Wayne was collapsed, face down, against the keyboards of the computer terminals. He was propped up somehow against them, slumped over, unmoving. Terry stopped as soon as he saw him, his hands trembling as he slowly reached over to the old man. There wasn’t a spot of blood or red paint on him. That had to be a good sign, right?  _ Right? _

Terry carefully held Bruce’s arm with one hand and placed his other on the old man’s face, gently rolling him over so Terry could inspect his front, see his face-

Terry choked on the gasp that ripped out of his throat when Bruce’s face turned towards him. Bile rose up, threatening to make him puke. His body shook with icy shivers. He couldn’t stand to look any more, but his eyes refused to move away.

Bruce’s face was broken out in the most horrible grin Terry had ever seen. It was stretched too wide, too big for his face. His teeth were so displayed that his lips were painfully thinned. His eyes were wide open, irises  _ red _ , frozen in a stare that didn’t even register Terry standing there, gripping him for dear life somehow.

Terry managed, without much difficulty, to pull bruce up by the front of his coat, and he eased the old man down to lay on the floor. Bruce’s body was stiff as a board, his arm was frozen in a raised position with his fist seemingly permanently clenched up.

The Joker had done something to him. The Joker had- had used  _ something _ to do this to him, make his face stick in this horrible expression and paralyze his body. Terry cursed himself a thousand times in the back of his head. He should have done his research on the Joker. He should have known what to do. The Joker had been dead before Terry was even thought about being born- he’d never thought it was relevant or useful to look at the Joker’s old files. The Jokerz gangs were nothing like the homicidal psychopath from the original Batman’s time- they were a bunch of idiot, sadistic kids. This? This was completely different. This was nothing like anything Terry had ever read about or prepared for before.

He should have been prepared. He should have known what to do. His hands hovered helplessly over Wayne’s frozen body. 

He bent his head down, placing it against Wayne’s chest as he settled into a kneeling position next to the old man. He listened desperately, pressing his ear a little bit harder and-

And just as he heard it, the faint beating in the old man’s chest, Wayne inhaled, took a deep breath. A spark of hope and relief came to life in Terry’s gut as he snapped his head up to look at Wayne’s face, but it died almost as quickly as it came. Wayne’s inhale was interrupted by a laugh- an awful laugh that sounded strained and crazed. Terry had never heard more than a short chuckle from the geezer before, so not only was this shocking and terrifying, but it froze him for a second as he watched Wayne lift his head and actually  _ look _ at Terry now, look at him with that horrible expression and finish that horrible laugh.

He wheezed on another laugh, eyes shutting and his body straining against the paralysis. Terry couldn’t blink or look away, only watch as Bruce struggled to turn his head to the right, away from Terry, away from the computer. He finally managed to force his arm to the ground, his ancient body trembling as he gasped and moved. Terry was relieved but not any less scared as the grin finally turned back into the familiar grimace, and Terry almost missed the word Wayne’s voice forced out after the raspy laugh.

“ _ Under _ ,” the old man managed. He wheezed out another laugh as the terrifying grin returned, and Terry watched him stare at the messed up lab table nearby. Terry finally managed to move his eyes, looking over at the mess himself. There were some bottles and tubes and chemicals on the tabletop. A few tools and instruments were turned over. On the floor was Bruce’s trusty cane, some broken glass, shattered remains of a test tube, and a weird orange liquid that puddled on the floor and spread under the table. “ _ Table, _ ” Bruce groaned out through more wheezy laughs and chuckles. Terry watched his hand point over at the table for emphasis for just a moment before his hand seized back to his chest for a moment. Terry looked back at the old man just as his head moved back and his body finally went limp against the floor. The laughter didn’t stop. His chest vibrated with pained chuckles and wheezes.

Terry scrambled to his feet and rushed the short distance to the lab table, ignoring the glass and goo on the floor as he knelt down and moved his hand under the table, trying to feel for whatever the hell Bruce wanted him to get. His fingers finally found what appeared to be another test tube, and they curled around it, quickly pulling it out and bringing it up for Terry to inspect. Bruce’s laughter echoed the Cave in the worst way possible. 

The tube was filled with the same liquid that seemed to be spilled on the floor, and it was sealed with a lid that was meant to be inserted into one of the injection guns. Terry looked at the table top and found it, grabbing it with his other hand and pursing his lips as he quickly loaded the tube into the gun. He heard it click and ran back over to Bruce, finding his arms locked back up in their original raised positions, shaking as his fists clenched, and his mouth trembled in a grin as the laughter continued crawling from his dusty old lungs. Terry dropped to his knees next to Bruce’s shoulder and used his right hand to pull away the collar of Bruce’s coat. He somehow managed to steady his other hand long enough to press the injection gun against Bruce’s neck, just like the old man had demonstrated all the times he’d done drills for administering antitoxins and cures (which is what he assumed/prayed this stuff was), and pulled the trigger, wincing at the snap as the dose was shot into the old man’s bloodstream.

Bruce gasped painfully, his facial expression reflecting that as well as showing some relief, and he exhaled with a groan, eyes sliding shut as he passed out. His arms took a few moments before they fell to his sides, and his head rested against the floor. Terry stared at him for a few more panicked heartbeats, terrified that the laughter and seizing would begin again, but, thankfully, whatever the orange stuff was, seemed to do the trick. He hoped.

His entire body, still trembling a little, relaxed as Terry let his head dip down and his hands fall into his lap. His left hand couldn’t seem to let go of the injection gun. His heart wouldn’t calm. He felt the tears only as they dripped off his chin, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

He should have been here. He should have known what to do. He should have been here. He should have known.

He found himself silently pleading to anyone who was listening, calling out for his dad even, to help Bruce right now. He begged Bruce to hold on. He swore to the old man that he would never leave him like that again, no matter how hard Bruce tried to push him away.

Eventually, Terry managed to rise to his shaking legs, and he called the Commissioner from the Bat Computer. He should’ve used his phone, but it wasn’t in his pockets which meant it was on the floor somewhere in the manor, and he was  _ not _ leaving Wayne’s side. 

He gave Barbara the short version, that the Joker, or  _ someone, _ had broken in and done something to Bruce. He was okay for now, but Terry had no idea what to do. Thankfully, Barbara understood enough to not ask Terry to explain further. She was over at the manor in fifteen minutes, finding Terry sitting on the ground next to Wayne, hugging his knees and staring between his face and gently moving chest as he breathed. Terry didn’t relax as he felt Barbara’s hand on his shoulder or at her voice filling his ears. He stayed mostly quiet, doing as she told him, carefully picking up Wayne in his arms and following Barbara upstairs to the old man’s bedroom. He watched her check his vitals, and only as she asked about Ace did Terry remember the injured hound downstairs.

They hadn’t passed him in the den when they came through to bring Bruce upstairs, and Terry was filled with renewed panic as he quickly went downstairs and called out the hound’s name. He finally heard a whine in the old living room where Bruce kept his television, and he allowed himself to breathe when he saw Ace sat on the floor next to the couch. Upon inspection, Ace was okay. His front left leg seemed to have a sprain of some kind, keeping him from jumping up on the couch himself, and he had a thin cut on his side. It was already closed and starting to scab, so Terry brought the pup some water and food, letting him take as much as he wanted, before lifting him up to relax on the couch. He sat with him for a few minutes, talking to him in a quiet voice about Bruce and telling him the old man would be okay. He clicked on the TV, switching on some cartoons with a smile as Ace’s ears perked up. He gave the boy another scratch on the head before jogging upstairs to check on Bruce.


	2. after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> following up

On his way up, Terry found himself thinking about Chelsea and Dana, and decided to find his phone first, now that things had calmed down. He went back to the foyer, finding the front doors still open from Barbara’s entrance. He jogged down the steps to his bike, propping it up right and setting his helmet on the handlebars. He looked around the grass for his phone with no luck, going back inside and shutting the doors properly behind him.

He cleaned up a little as he retraced his frantic steps from earlier. He tried to make piles of the bigger chunks of glass and wood with his boots as he went around, not really being interested in splinters or cuts at the moment, and he did his best to fold or roll up some of the torn down tapestries and tarps. He was in the hallway near the kitchen when he heard his ringtone going off, and he ran after it, finding his cell next to a fallen painting and catching it just before it finished ringing.

“Hello?” he said breathlessly, leaning against the wall.

“Terry McGinnis, you better have a VERY good explanation for where the hell you’ve been,” Max’s worried voice said to him. “What trouble have you been in? More Joker stuff? I’ve been trying you all  _ night _ , Terry-”

“Max, Max, chill,” Terry said, eager to shut her up. “I’m- I’m alright. I’m at Wayne’s mansion.”

“I heard about what happened at the club, the Jokerz attacking you, and-”

“Max, they came after  _ me _ . They know who I am,” he said seriously. “And they know about Mr. Wayne, too.”

Max was quiet for a moment. “What happened, Terry?”

He gave her the short version, similar to what he told the Commissioner. “He’s okay now, I think. Ace, too. I just…” He sighed. “I’m just still kind of shaken up, you know?”

“Oh, Terr,” she said gently. “Well, I’m glad the old man’s alright now… You and Ace too. And the Commissioner is there with you?”

“Yeah. She and Wayne have a history. Long story,” he said, rubbing his face.

“Another time, then,” Max said, and he could hear a smile in her voice. “Well, to take another weight off your shoulders, I talked to Chels, and Dana is okay, too.”

Terry slapped his hand over his mouth. In the mess with Wayne, he completely forgot about Dana. He felt the oh-so familiar sickness of how crappy a boyfriend he was, but tried to shove it aside to feel relieved that Dana was at least alright. 

“She’s still in the hospital, but she’s just resting. They’re gonna watch her overnight. She asked about you a while ago, and Chelsea told her you were okay, but she hadn’t seen you since you left to talk to the cops,” Max continued. “When we hang up, I’ll give her a call and let her know you’re alright, too, so she can pass it on to Dana.”

“Thanks, Max,” Terry said. “Hey, look, I know I should really say it more often, but I really appreciate you, Max. You’re… You’re always there for me and backing me up, and… You’re my best friend, okay?”

“Aww, Terry,” Max said, and he could hear the grin in her voice. “You’re sweet. And correct, you really definitely  _ should _ tell me how much you appreciate me, I could really get used to it.” Terry laughed a little, his hand finding his face again as he let himself relax a little bit. “Thanks, Terr, really. You’re my best friend, too, okay? So take care of yourself and Mr. Wayne, and don’t do anything to get yourself killed or something.”

“Do my best,” he promised, a lingering smile on his lips as they hung up. He took a deep breath, pressing his back to the wall and sliding down until he crouched with his arms on his thighs and his head hung between his shoulders. 

 

\---

 

Terry heard Bruce’s snores from the hallway. That was honestly the moment Terry let himself believe that the old man was going to be okay. He walked inside and found Barbara gently pressing a compress to his forehead, looking down at him with concern. Terry hald his hands behind his back and quietly made his way over to her. 

“How is he?” he asked her, leaning just a little to get a better look at the sleeping geezer’s face.

“The antitoxin’s done all it can,” Barbara said quietly. She turned to face him, and Terry took a step back to give her some space. “It’s up to him now.”

“Thanks for coming,” Terry said, hunching up his shoulders a little. “Um… I didn’t know who else to call,” he admitted after a brief pause, letting his shoulders relax and looking up at the commissioner. 

“Who else is there?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, making an excellent point.

“That reminds me- I should go check on our other patient,” he said, realizing he’d spent a while trudging around the manor and Ace could probably use checking on. Barbara patted his shoulder with a small smile. Terry glanced at Bruce once more before nodding and heading back downstairs. As much as he wanted to stay at Wayne’s bedside to make sure he didn’t die or anything, he figured Barbara Gordon needed some time with him too. 

He heard the television as he entered the living room, a smile twitching to his lips as he saw Ace comfortably resting on the couch with his paws underneath his chin, his eyes on the television.

Terry walked over and plopped down next to Ace, petting him on the head and giving him scratches behind the ear. “How ya doin’, killer?” he asked, leaning in a little as Ace looked up at him. He gave a low whine and a noise that Terry interpreted as,  _ Been better. _ “Yeah, rough night for me, too,” he told the dog, picking up the remote and switching the channel to the news as he continued petting Ace. 

The newscaster was talking about how Bruce Wayne would be delayed in his return to the company, thanks to “an accident”. Terry’s grip tightened on the remote. He scowled as Jordan Price’s smug face came on screen and started talking about how everyone at Wayne Enterprises was hoping and praying for Bruce’s speedy recovery. Ace let out an indignant snort, and Terry stood up, switching the TV off shortly after Price finished speaking, eager to get his sorry mug off the screen. 

“I’ll bet,” he said sarcastically, glaring at the dim screen. “Not every creep in Gotham wears a purple suit,” he continued a moment later, hearing Barbara approaching him and turning to face her.

“It’d make my job simpler if they did,” she replied bitterly, glancing back to the TV.

“The Joker knew about Bruce, about me. Probably about you, too,” Terry said, deciding to finally address what had been plaguing his head since he found Bruce collapsed at the computer.

“Someone knows, I’ll give you that,” she said simply as he set the remote down on the coffee table. “But it’s not the Joker,” she said firmly. “Not the real one, anyway.” Her head dipped down, looking toward the table.

“Bruce said he was dead,” Terry said quietly. 

There was a pause. “And?” Barbara prompted. 

“That’s it,” Terry said, spreading his hands helplessly. “I know there’s more.” He hesitated before continuing. “Barbara, I’m a part of this,” he said seriously, lifting his hands to his chest. “I need answers Bruce can’t give me.” He dropped his hands and frowned, clenching his fists and inclining his head towards the Commissioner a little. “I deserve them,” he told her firmly.

She regarded him for a moment before looking down, shutting her eyes briefly and taking a slow breath. Terry watched her turn from him and walk over towards the windows lining the near wall of the room. Gentle morning light shone in, illuminating much of the floor and reminding Terry of how long the night had been.

“I thought talking about it would get easier over time,” Barbara finally said, her voice sounding more old and tired than he’d ever heard. “But some hurts never go away.”

Terry listened intently, watching her as she began telling him the story of Tim Drake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos your love for terry mcginnis because he Deserves it


End file.
